Seven Days Of Hell
by vampiregir101
Summary: Germany makes a bet with America that he quickly comes to regret. (PWP. Germany x Anyone who has a few quid to spare)
1. Chapter 1

**Uh there's a couple things I wanted to say before I get right into the story. First of all, the usual copyright stuff, I own nothing, blah blah. Second, I couldn't decide whether or not to have them use their human names or their countries names, so I went for a mix of the two. In case you're not familiar with it and you're too lazy to google -**

**Athur - England**  
**Alfred - America**  
**Ludwig - Germany  
****Ivan - Russia**  
**Feliciano - Italy **

* * *

In hindsight, it was really his own fault. He should learn to stay out of other people's business. If he hadn't been making all those jokes about England and France, none of this would have happened. Germany sighed as he remembered.

* * *

It had all begun at a world conference. Most of the countries took a while to leave, usually because they were gathering up their things, or talking to other nations, or in Greece's case, sleeping with a kitten perched on the top of his head, so even ten minutes after it was over, the room wasn't entirely empty. Germany was stood near the door, after having given up the hunt for Italy (who had vanished a little while before, making some excuse about needing to discuss sauce with Spain). He was absent mindedly watching France and Britain interact. America slumped against the wall next to him, munching on a ludicrously large hamburger.  
"You know, you're an asshat, but god DAMN, you make good food." The bespectacled nation munched as he spoke, making his words all but unintelligible. Germany nodded and half-smiled at the backhanded compliment, not taking his eyes from the other two. Frowning slightly, America shuffled closer to Germany.  
"What are you looking at?" He asked. Germany nodded towards them, as France moved forwards before Britain could stop him, and began brushing some imaginary lint from the lapels of Britain's suit jacket, purely for an excuse to touch the other nation. Britain allowed this for a second before pushing him back, and sweeping the front of his jacket with his own hands. Germany could just about hear Britain yelling at France and telling him to keep his hands to himself. Germany rolled his eyes at the sight, thinking the discomfort was all for show. America shot him a quizzical look.  
"They aren't that interesting."  
"They are. I think it's funny. They put so much effort into not being found out, when really, no one cares."  
"What are you talking about?"  
"England and France. They should just tell everyone they're screwing and have done with it all." Germany shrugged, as if it was fact that they were together, and not mere speculation of several nations. America's eyes widened as Germany spoke.  
"You saw them fucking?!" He cried, clearly horrified at the prospect.  
"Nein, nein. But don't you think it's obvious, what with the way they are around each other?" Germany looked back over to them, while America sighed with relief. France was smirking and leaning forwards, murmuring something that was undoubtedly an invitation to something illicit into England's ear, while England's eyes bulged, and he blushed like a schoolgirl.  
"Nah, that's just France." America assured Germany, recalling occasions in which France had given Italy and Austria the same treatment. Germany chuckled and shook his head.  
"It's more than that. I'm sure of it." Germany insisted, watching as France tugged Britain's tie off, tied it round his own neck and began to do a teasing impression of Britain, while Britain protested and grabbed for it. Finally, France relented, and replaced the tie. Holding one end in each hand, he flipped it like a skipping rope over Britain's head, and tugged on it to pull him closer. Britain found his body pinned against France's, and while he squirmed to get away, the other nation simply laughed. America scowled at the sight, but he didn't say anything; he was too busy thinking. He knew  
something Germany didn't, and he could easily use it against him if he played this right. It wasn't that he wanted anything from Germany, or felt he needed revenge for anything. He was just incredibly bored, and felt like having some fun.  
"But... you have no proof?" He enquired, after a lengthy contemplation.  
"Nein, I don't." Germany admitted. America gave him a little disappointed look, and he must have really known how to play Germany, because hell, if that look didn't bring out his competitive side.  
"I have none now, but I bet I could find some." Ludwig couldn't help but boast. America shrugged, and nodded.  
"Okay. And I bet you can't."  
"Wait, are you betting thatI can't because I'm not good at this stuff, or I can't because it doesn't exist?" Germany asked after a few moments of watching Britain smack France with his tie. America opened his mouth to answer, but then realised he wasn't actually sure.  
"Look, let's write this down so we don't get confused." He went back over to the conference table, and found a piece of blank paper. Germany followed him, and sat in the chair next to the one America had claimed, while he searched for a writing implement.  
"Hey Russia? Got a pen?" He gave up, and called across the room to the purple-eyed nation.  
"Yes, why?" Russia began to glide towards them, his being enveloped in a mysterious glowing purple fog.  
"It's nothing Russia." Germany said hastily, not wanting anyone else to get involved, should this go wrong. Not to mention that Russia creeped him out. America waved that off, and pulled a chair out for the other nation.  
"Me and Ludwig here are making a bet." He laughed, taking the pen from Russia and beginning to write out some terms.  
"Oh? What about?" Russia began to scan the document America was making. Germany groaned. He just had to ask.  
"Welllll, Germany thinks that France and Britain are screwing," America nodded his head towards the other two nations, who were still pressed against each other, one laughing, the other trying to escape, "and I think they aren't."  
"What are the stakes?" Russia asked. Germany and America looked at each other, having not previously discussed this.  
"What do you reckon, Germany? Loser has to give up some land?"  
"Aren't you a big enough country already?!"  
"Money then?"  
"I'm really not that invested in whether or not they are screwing..."  
"Well we need _something_ to happen to the loser...What about a dare?" America suggested after a few moments of contemplation. Germany shrugged.  
"What kind of dare?" He asked. America's eyes sparkled with glee as millions upon millions of bizarre and brilliant ideas popped into his head.  
"The loser has to try and seduce China."  
"Nein."  
"Japan?"  
"Nein."  
"Russia's scary sister?"  
"Nein! Und you do realise he is sat right next to you, don't you?"  
"Yeah dude, of course I do. What about -"  
"Can't you think of a dare that does not involve forcing yourself upon a potentially unwilling recipient, purely for the sake of the other's amusement?!" Germany demanded angrily. America seemed cowed for a second, before he snapped his fingers, grinning maniacally.  
"What about if it wasn't unwilling?"  
"Thenit would be okay, I suppose. What are you thinking?"  
"Whoever loses has to be a hooker for a week!"  
"...Explain yourself."  
"Well, it wouldn't piss anyone else off, and no one else would know, unless they happened to see whoever lost standing in a dark alley at night in a miniskirt." America shrugged, knowing it was a fairly weak argument, but keeping his hopes up as Germany hadn't immediately dismissed it. Germany ran through everything in his head. He was _certain_ that France and Britain were at it, and in all honesty, he kind of wanted to see America in a mini skirt, and not just because he loved embarrassing him. Besides, if he lost, there'd be nothing to stop him just telling America to go fuck himself. He smirked, and nodded.  
"Sure. I accept these terms." Germany nodded, and America scrawled them all down, as Russia watched.  
"Now, you just have to seal the deal with blood." Russia insisted, smiling that creepy smile of his. Germany and America both turned to face him, alarmed looks on their faces. They both protested vehemently, but somehow or other, Russia managed to convince them to sign the paper with their blood, and allow him to cast some kind of enchantment over the whole affair.  
"If the loser fails to cooperate with the terms, his soul will be forfeit to me." Russia chuckled, his being once again shrouded in a haze of glowing purple. Germany and America cast each other worried glances, wondering what the holy fuck just happened.

"So, how long do I have to gather this evidence?" Germany asked as he stood up.  
"Uhh, an hour." America shrugged, having a rather short attention span, and not wanting to have to wait to claim his prize.  
"_An hour!?_ How do you expect either of us to gather sufficient evidence in that time?" Germany demanded. America just snickered, deciding that now would be a good time to reveal his secret.  
"HEY BRITAIN!" America hollered over to the other nation, who seemed grateful for an excuse to move away from France. Germany sighed inwardly, expecting America to just straight up ask him if he was screwing France. Except he didn't. When Britain reached America's chair, America caught ahold of Britains wrist, pulled him into his lap, and captured Britains mouth with his own. Entirely unsurprised by this action, Britain responded with equal enthusiasm, wrapping his arms around America's neck, while Germany watched, open-mouthed.

* * *

After Germany pulled them apart, Arthur explained that he and "Alfie" had been shagging ever since the end of WWII, and that although Francis was obsessed with him, the feeling was not mutual. Germany snarled. He moved to strike America across the face, but Russia caught his arm.  
"He wins." He said softly. Germany laughed harshly, shaking his head.  
"That was not winning! That was cheating, surely?"  
"No. The only rules states are that proof needed to be shown within the hour. And here is proof." Russia gestured to where Arthur was still sat in America's lap, watching the whole affair with an aura of amusement.  
"Serves you right for gossiping, Ludwig." He laughed lightly, before turning to the contract. He laughed even harder when he saw what Germany had agreed to.


	2. Chapter 2

**Okay so yeah, sorry if this took longer than you expected. I've got a shit load of other commitments and really the only thing I care about with this is that it's good quality. Thanks for reading and reviewing and have a good day.**

* * *

So there he was, standing on a street corner late that night, waiting for his first patron. Thankfully, America had agreed to leave his appearance alone for the most part, asking only that he shaved, put on a little mascara, and allowed him to pick out the clothes. Though even that Ludwig was regretting. Alfred had adorned him in five-inch heels, a black lacy corset, and a skin-hugging crimson mini-skirt so short he had doubts about whether or not it was even meant for adults to wear. Then he noticed the slit running up the right hand side. He didn't want to think about where America had gotten these articles of clothing from, nor who had worn them before he had.  
"At least I'll look pretty while whoring myself out for America's amusement." Germany muttered bitterly as a breeze ran through the thin garments, causing him to shiver.  
"Yeah, that's true." Someone chirped. Germany squawked in alarm, jumping slightly in his shock, and wheeled round, to see Italy standing behind him. Italy jumped back, wailing and shrieking.  
"What the hell are you doing here?!" The dangerous look in his eyes made Italy instinctively raise his arms in front of his face to shield himself.  
"Agh! You disappeared from the conference before I could find you again, and I went home and you weren't there either and I called Japan and he didn't know where you were either and neither did Prussia, and then I went to find the Allies because I saw you talking to them and when I asked where you were and they all started laughing, and I was getting worried and I didn't know what to do and then America said I'd find you here and please don't hit me!" Italy cried, speeding up as he spoke until his words were blurred and nonsensical. Germany rolled his eyes, and shook his head.  
"I wont hit you. Maybe. How long have you been here?"  
"A couple minutes. I wasn't sure it was you until you spoke, but I was too scared to ask." He stammered, shaking slightly.  
"I see. What did you want, anyway?" Germany asked, wondering why Italy had been so concerned about him. It wasn't as if he was Feliciano's little brother. He could take care of himself.  
"Oh well uh nothing really. I just wondered why you ditched me." Italy resumed a normal stance, seemingly assured he wasn't in any immediate danger. Germany sighed inwardly.  
"I didn't mean to; I thought you had already left... Just go home Italy. I should be back in a couple of hours." Germany waved him off, not wanting him to still be there when anyone who had an interest in "hiring" him arrived. Italy made a little whimpering noise, clearly reluctant to make the trip on his own, but he turned and walked away without another word. Germany sighed, both hating Italy for making this whole thing harder than it already was and hating himself for getting into this stupid mess.  
"Aww, look at him. The poor thing is _lost_ without you." France chuckled as he walked towards Germany, casting a sympathetic look towards the now out-of-sight Italy.  
"Ja but there's nothing I can do about it, if I want to keep my soul." Germany groaned, before shooting France a suspicious look, "What did you want anyway?"  
"I don't think you need to ask, mon ami~." France leaned forwards and pressed a €20 note into Germany's hand, winking. Germany pushed him away, glaring.  
"Are you mocking me?!" He all but growled.  
"Hon hon, no, of course not. Even a gorgeous man like me can love a butch man like you~." France purred. Germany shot him a look of pure hatred, before catching his arm, and pulling him towards the motel America had booked for him. His groan of "Let's get this over with," was drowned out by France's startled and delighted squeals and his cries of "Oh mon cher, I had no idea you were so forward~!".

The motel room was pretty standard, the only furniture being a double bed, a chest of drawers, a tiny fridge next to the chest of drawers, and a door which Germany presumed led to a bathroom (which he desperately hoped contained a shower), but he didn't get a chance to check, as France walked in behind him, closing the door with a swish of his hips, and he recalled what he was supposed to be doing. France advanced on Germany, draping his arms over the taller nations shoulders. Gentle kisses were pressed to his mouth, neck and jaw line, while deft fingers unlaced the corset, making Germany sigh with relief. It had been digging into his skin, crushing his muscular form into something shapely and feminine and he was glad to see it go. Fingers running through his hair brought him back to reality, and Germany smiled, a little bemused that France was treating him like a lover he had seduced rather than bought. It was better than if France had simply ordered him to strip, get on the bed and spread his legs, but even so, he didn't want to prolong the experience. He quickly began to return France's affectionate gestures, sucking on a particularly sensitive spot on France's neck, causing him to groan softly, unbuttoning his shirt as he did so. France quickly slipped out of it, and Germany began to leave a trail of kisses and bites down France's chest, from the collarbone to the naval until he'd unzipped Frances jeans and was tugging down his boxers with his teeth. Licking a hot strip up France's already hard cock, before he tried to remember what was usually done for him when he was on the receiving end. The last time Japan had done it, he'd done it so slowly, teasing him mercilessly, licking and kissing his member, occasionally pulling away and wanking him off to make his mouth free to do other things, so that he was a panting, begging, desperate mess, on the edge of coming before Japan even took him into his mouth. Germany blushed at the memory, letting out a sigh that made France shudder and moan, and tried to get his mind back onto what he was supposed to be doing. Hallowing his cheeks, he began to bob his head, but he couldn't get those thoughts out of his head. Memories of Japan wandered unbidden into his mind. Japan riding him, clinging to his chest, burying his face in Germany's shoulder, gasping and yelling Germany's name as his orgasm hit. He moaned around France's member, stiffening just at the thought of Japan crying out and writhing in pleasure underneath him.

After a minute, France's fingers began to gently prise Germany off him, before pulling him up.  
"Mngh, that's enough of that, mon cher. Get on the bed." France murmured, his voice shaky, stepping to his feet to give Germany room. Germany hopped onto the bed, lying back and spreading his legs, still unsure of whether or not France wanted to screw or be screwed. He got his answer when France began to slick up his hands with lube. Germany groaned as France began to prepare him, fucking him with a finger, and then adding another, scissoring them, as he began to grow impatient, desperate to be inside Germany. Germany's hips began to twitch, bucking up in an attempt to gain some friction.  
"Mon cher~?" France simpered, taking a moment to admire the view of Germany as he lay underneath him, whimpering and writhing, before continuing, "Hon hon hon, have you been, shall we say, taken by a man before?" Germany glowered, about to tell France to fuck off and mind his own business, when France's hand closed around his dick and began to wank him off, causing all rational thought to scatter.  
"The truth please~" France purred, crooking one of his fingers and rubbing against Germany's prostate.  
"A-ah nein. I've been with Japan before but I was always the one on top." Germany admitted, whimpering and moaning. France nodded.  
"Just relax mon ami. You're going to love this.~" France assured him, slightly worried to have learnt that Germany was effectively a virgin.  
"Ja, I'm -_ah! Fucking hell France_- s-sure I will. Oh God, I need you, please fuck me now." Germany began to beg and France couldn't resist any longer. A condom was pulled on, and then he thrust into Germany, letting out a low groan as he did so. A long filthy moan erupted from Germany as France began to fuck him hard and fast. All the finesse, control, and affectionate gestures were gone. They was just two men desperately chasing their orgasms, with fingers dug deep into the others' flesh, and hips bucking wildly.

France seemed to sense Germany getting closer to his release; his hand moved back to Germany's aching cock, as he quickened his pace, thrusting in and out of Germany with no rhythm or care. He soon came with a scream, with Germany following suite seconds later. Panting, the two laid there for a while, in a hazy moment of post-coital bliss. Eventually France pulled out of Germany and rolled onto his back so he could lie beside him, carelessly disposing of his condom before draping an arm across Germany's chest and snuggling up to him.  
"Mon ami mon ami~" He murmured nonsensically, drifting off to sleep a few minutes later. Germany rolled his eyes and slipped out from under the arm. He'd have much rather stayed there, but he had to clean himself up, get dressed, and go out to do the whole thing over again with someone else. For Germany, that night had just begun.


End file.
